Murder At Rudhall Manor

by Anya Wylde

  She flew through the night, her hands flapping about her like a one winged duck. Her feet skimmed, slipped and slid over the snow occasionally landing on a crunchy leaf or a snappy twig.

  The pins in her hair abandoned ship and ran away, one of the pillows slipped out from beneath the dress and bounced towards a prickly bush, and finally her best pair of stockings laddered up from toe to hip.

  All at once her hurrying ankle slammed into something hard on the ground. She flew through the air like a baby dolphin leaping over a frothy wave and splashed onto the snow covered ground.

  Spitting the snow out of her mouth, she scrambled up into a sitting position and looked behind to see what she had tripped on.

  A soft scream escaped her and her eyes widened in horror.

  A man was lying face down on the ground behind her.

  Her stomach twisted sickeningly as she dared to nudge the body with her toe.

  Was he dead?

  A little fearfully she pushed the man harder with her foot.

  The body flipped over instead of shifting in the snow. It was lighter than she had expected.

  Far lighter … inhumanly light.

  She also realised that the body did not have a face. All she could see was white skin and no features.

  Her palms turned cold and her vision started blurring.

  This was a nightmare.

  A sickening sensation started blooming in her stomach and her tongue felt dry and parched.

  That horrible featureless face, white as snow, was glowing eerily in the night.

  She was going to faint ….

  A single cloud fluttering in front of the moon drifted away, and in the more vivid light Lucy's hazy vision registered something familiar.

  The body was inanimate. The skin was not skin but plain white cloth. It was a large doll in shape of a man.

  Chapter 34

  Lucy giggled hysterically. Who would make a doll that size? Did the children make it for some silly game?

  The doll even had clothes on. Late Lord Sedley's clothes.

  The laughter died in her tonsils.

  She frowned and reached out to touch the gilt buttons when a hiss to her right arrested her fingers in mid-air.

  Dark, feral eyes shimmered in the moonlight.

  Palmer, the baboon, sat watching her every move, a knife glinting in his small hairy hands.

  She gulped.

  Something was dreadfully wrong. The very air encompassing Palmer seemed to throb with danger.

  She looked back at the doll.

  The bright moon illuminated dark criss-cross lines on the doll's chest.

  Her heart filled with dread. The lines were slashes made by a dagger.

  Her eyes widened in understanding as the broken puzzle floated together and formed a whole, vivid and dangerous picture.

  A myriad of scenes raced by in her mind.

  Everyone had an alibi in the house.

  Lord Adair's words that it was something like a ghost.

  Lady Sedley screaming at the baboon for having leaped over the gate to steal the sugared pineapples.

  The images came in quick succession now … Palmer eating with a spoon, picking nits out of Ian's hair, faithfully copying a number of Peter's gestures …

  Using a dagger to stab Lord Sedley six times in the chest.

  Palmer moved, wrenching her back to the present. His large, dark body slowly came to rest on his hands.

  She stumbled backwards in fright and her foot landed on something sharp that dug through her thin boots. Stifling a scream, she looked down and found a spade jutting out from underneath her boot.

  Holding back the growing panic, she cast a desperate eye around herself searching for a means of escape and spotted a freshly dug ditch nearby.

  Her eyes flickered from the neat length of the ditch to the large dummy.

  Her heart thundered in her ribs and she lurched backwards in horror.

  It wasn't a ditch at all but a grave for the doll.

  "It is a pity you discovered us," Peter's voice said in her ear.

  Something cold and hard jabbed her spine.

  She stopped breathing.

  "Stand up," he ordered.

  "You are very clever," she said, her voice thick with fear.

  He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her up. "We are going to walk towards the animal house now. Don't try and scream."

  "You trained Palmer. He leaped over the gate, entered the room and stabbed Lord Sedley in the chest when he was asleep."

  "Lower your tone," he whispered, his fingers digging into her waist in warning.

  She allowed herself to be led in silence for a bit. Her brain was working harder and clearer than ever before. Every sound, every colour suddenly seemed enhanced in her mind's eye.

  "What are you going to do with me?" she asked.

  "Kill you."

  She swallowed nervously. "You won't get away with another murder."

  "But you won't be murdered, Miss Trotter. You will leave a note stating how you couldn’t bear the guilt of having blood on your hands before I shoot you. According to the world, you would have committed suicide."

  Terror seized her limbs.

  Peter had to begin dragging her through the snow for her feet were now refusing to move.

  "The animals will miss me," she said, trying to appeal to his softer side.

  Peter stopped walking. "True. You are a good person, Miss Trotter, and I don't have anything against you. I don't want to harm you, but I am left with no other choice."

  A shadow moved in the corner of her eye.

  "You planted the jewels in my room," she said desperate to keep him talking. Someone was nearby listening to every word they were saying, "so that I became a definite suspect. I was always meant to be sacrificed."

  "Curious," he replied thoughtfully. "I never touched the jewels until this evening when the butler handed them over to me. I honestly believed you had stolen them."

  "I did not steal anything."

  He made a disbelieving noise.

  A twig snapped behind them, and she quickly spoke to distract him from the sound. "Why did you do it?"

  He said meditatively, "Father insulted me often, hated me and always preferred Ian. But it wasn't hatred for my father that pushed me to do this. It was love. Love for the poor helpless animals in the world."

  She nodded frantically encouraging him to go on.

  He continued, "So many animals in this world need shelter, Miss Trotter. Surely you understand that. I have to feed them, to give them all they require. I have to travel and find the most beautiful creatures in the world and bring them home to live with me. And I couldn't do any of it unless this mansion was sold. And Father would not agree. He refused to sell it. I had to kill him," he finished passionately.

  "I understand," she lied.

  His grasp on her waist gentled. "I would have helped you run away, Miss Trotter, if only you had confided in me. It wouldn't have come to this. You could have set sail for France and had a fortune to spend. I could have sold this house and everyone would have believed you had murdered my father. It would have been ideal."

  "Please," she whispered, "you can still let me go. I will go to France. Run away from here. You don't have to kill me."

  "I know you don't blame me. My pets … they know a good soul," he said softly. "I will miss you, Miss Trotter. But since you know the truth, I cannot risk letting you live." He sighed unhappily, "I will have to sacrifice you for the larger good. I know you understand … only you can. Come along, my love, and we will write that note. It's getting late."

  She squeezed her eyes closed. This was her chance, and she prayed that whoever was following behind them was not the blasted baboon but an intelligent human being.

  She looked towards the three stars twinkling in the sky and wondered if a fourth would be forming in a moment from now.

  Heart thundering, she ignored Peter's tug on her waist and opened her mouth and screa
med like a crazed banshee, "Look, a BLOOMING FLYING ELEPHANT!"

  Peter looked.

  Instantly her fingers flew to his nostril and rammed themselves in. Her elbow moved at the same time and slammed against his stomach.

  "Oof," he exclaimed and his hold on her slackened.

  She ducked and twirled out of his grip in time to spot Lord Adair come flying towards Peter's wrist.

  He grabbed Peter's hand and twisted it until his fingers spread in pain and the pistol fell out.

  In a blink of an eye Lord Adair held the pistol to Peter's defeated temple.

  It all happened so fast that her head was left reeling. She dazedly watched Lord Adair tighten his hold on Peter's neck almost unable to believe that the real culprit had been nabbed and that she was free.

  Lord Adair grinned and cocked an eyebrow at her. "Blooming elephant?"

  "Flying elephant," Peter corrected in disgust.

  "It worked, didn’t it?" she asked, her knees sagging in relief.

  "If only you hadn't said elephant," Peter growled, "I wouldn't have looked."

  "I considered shouting yellow buffalo," she informed him.

  "Blast it," Peter muttered and allowed Lord Adair to lead him away.

  Chapter 35

  It is amazing how the world view shifts along with the circumstances.

  Yesterday Lucy was dreaming of catching pigeons and cooking them over flames in a dark part of a forest to survive, and today she was eyeing those very birds with a sort of motherly affection. She couldn't dream of dining on them. In fact, she found them positively endearing, fussing about on a branch with wings and things.

  She strolled over to her favourite bench and perched her happy bottom on the sun warmed wood. So much had changed in one day.

  Life was funny like that.

  You were rich one minute and poor the next or poor one moment and rich the next. It could go either way. And she was glad that this time life had changed directions in her favour.

  She pulled out a cigar that she had pinched from the library and lit it. She didn't want to smoke it precisely but hold it in her hand, wave it about and look important. It felt like the right thing to do on such a joyous occasion.

  She stared at the animal house through the haze of dancing cigar smoke. Last evening she had been ready to flee the manor with a single shawl and two pillows stuffed up her dress.

  Last evening her skin had been chilled, her heart frightened and her nose so cold that she was surprised it hadn't fallen off at some point.

  She sighed. Last evening had been eventful. After her own nightly adventure, Lord Adair had flowed onto the scene like a magician, woken the entire household and left every yawning head spellbound as he had explained Peter's deadly hand in the entire matter.

  For once Lady Sedley had swooned convincingly. Elizabeth had paled and dug her nails into the sofa leaving a momentous claw mark in the pink leather.

  And as for Ian … Ian had heard the news, walked about, digested the fact that his brother was the culprit, and when the truth of it all finally penetrated his thick skull, he had started to sway and he had continued to sway on his astonished legs until his eyes had begun to blur.

  It was a long time before a sound passed his lips.

  He had squeaked and snorted a few times before anyone realised he was trying to whistle.

  And when he had finally managed to whistle, it had begun as a sweet little wobbly tune which soon turned into a full-fledged song of joy, love and ale.

  He had leaped into the air, bounced a few times on chairs and tables and raced about the house like a five year old presented with a basket brimming full of sweets.

  He had hugged and kissed every single person in the house and glowed like a dewy sunflower, and all because he had realised that he now owned not only the jewels but also the whole blasted manor.

  Lucy had not waited around to hear the rest of it … That is, she had wanted to but was ordered to retire to her room by Elizabeth.

  And tragically she hadn't been allowed to eavesdrop either.

  She had lain awake for hours after that mulling over the horrifying discovery that a baboon had killed poor old Lord Sedley.

  And Lord Adair, she smiled, had stood by the truth even though the culprit had turned out to be an aristocrat.

  She flicked the ash from the cigar just as she had seen Lord Adair do and took a thoughtful puff.

  And if last night had been eventful, then this morning had been no less exciting.

  She had walked into the kitchen to find hot sweet tea and warm breakfast waiting for her on the table. The servants had watched her consume one egg and part of a sausage before erupting into a babble of apologies.

  The cook had sobbed into her handkerchief and handed Lucy two cakes, a fresh loaf of bread and a pot of jam.

  Lucy had hugged the cook in delight, who had enthusiastically squeezed her back until Lucy had almost choked to death.

  The butler informed her that he and the scullery maid were getting married. She had been cordially invited for the wedding. He was planning to retire and open an inn with the money Lord Sedley had left him.

  In turn, the scullery maid had blushed a whole lot, and between fits of giggles she proceeded to enthusiastically pump Lucy's hand, give her an excellent recipe for Brunswick Black and bless her with ever shining rust free grates.

  Rose had shuffled up to her next. Dear feisty Rose, with her adorable garbled accent of part French, part Russian and a smattering of Irish. She had sternly apologised for her bad behaviour and demanded forgiveness. Her voice dipped a touch and trembled when she mentioned the delicate matter where she had threatened to bite off Lucy's sweet little nose.

  Tears had sprung up in Lucy's eyes at this confession, and she had warmly embraced the robust woman.

  Rose, in turn, had stood like a lump, gritted her teeth and allowed this display of physical affection for a change.

  Then it had been time for goodbyes.

  At this point everyone had burst into noisy tears including the butler. Hiccups, sobs and the sound of servants blowing their noses had resounded in the kitchen.

  Lucy had been touched, and she cried like she had never cried before. She had howled and howled and howled, prompting a wolf asleep in the animal house to respond.

  But it was the cook who outshone them all. She displayed grief like a tragic soul, an artist on stage or a frequent visitor of funerals. If Lucy's tears could have filled a large kettle, then the cook's tears caused the kitchen to flood. Soon every boot in the room had been soaked by the cook's salty tears …

  "Questions skipping about in your head?"

  She looked up to find Lord Adair standing in front of her. The sun seemed to form a halo around his head.

  "Will you answer them?" she asked.

  "Gladly," he replied. "Shall we stroll while we palaver?"

  "Jabber," she said standing up, “not palaver."

  He pressed his lips together.

  "Now, my lord," she asked, "when did you know that the baboon did it?"

  "Do you recall that day when you had disguised yourself as a bush and were tailing Lady Sedley? You had come very close to discovering the truth. A few feet away from where you stood eavesdropping on Lady Sedley and Peter's conversation, concealed inside the old stables, was the dummy wearing Lord Sedley's old clothes."

  "I was disguised as a tree not a bush," she corrected him. "Why didn't you unmask the plot that very day, my lord?"

  "If I had told the family that a baboon killed Lord Sedley and the only clue I had was a giant doll, would anyone have believed me?"

  "Sounds loony," she conceded.

  They circled around a large puddle of muddy water whose surface was shimmering with the colours of the rainbow.

  "What will Elizabeth do now?" Lucy asked.

  "She has decided to go to London. An old aunt of hers lives there and owns a modest house. Elizabeth will take care of her aunt while planning a season in London."


  "Ian and Lady Sedley will be going to Bath?" she prompted.

  "Yes," he replied quietly. "And I will return to Lockwood."

  "Yes, well …." She trailed off.

  "I should return indoors. I have some small matters to see to before departing."

  "Wait, one last question."

  He hesitated.

  "Please," she coaxed.

  He smiled and gestured for her to continue.

  "What happened to the valet?"

  "He escaped last night."

  "And the jewels … Who had placed them in my room?"

  "You already asked your last question."

  "I promise no more after this one. Tell me, who placed the jewels in my room."

  The smile widened. "Why, I did, Miss Trotter. I put the box of jewels on your bed."

  Her mouth dropped open. She asked slowly, "You stole the jewels from Elizabeth's room and placed them in mine?"

  He bowed in response.

  She stamped a small foot. "Why the devil would you do such a thing?"

  "Calm the anger spinning atop your nose, Miss Trotter. I wanted everyone to be certain that the crimes had been committed by you."

  "Why you—"

  "I wanted to lull Peter into a false sense of security, and once he relaxed, he made the mistake I was waiting for."

  "You used me," she fumed.

  "I did what I could to save you." He shrugged and tipped his hat at her. "Goodbye, Miss Trotter."

  "I won the bet," she said to his departing back.

  He froze.

  She lifted her skirts and hurried after him. "I caught the murderer before you did. Or rather he caught me, but catching has been done, and I was involved first, so I win."

  She impatiently brushed aside a branch and leaped over a large rock. "Did you hear what I said, my lord? Stop walking so fast. Wait a moment, Lord Adair. You and I have unfinished business. Stop, I say, you blasted man!"

  Chapter 36

  Lucy sourly watched the bags being carried into the waiting carriage.

  The gold Lockwood family crest of an eagle and Pegasus soaring over a friendly looking lion glinted in the sun every time the door was opened and closed by Lord Adair's valet.

  She heaved her own small bag up on the step and sat down to wait.